Inspiration
by Jessica Honey
Summary: A collection of short one shots set during "first class" with different ratings and different genres. Each has its own warning. Each was inspired when I was bored at work.rated M for the second chapter.
1. Dolls

**AN**: Hello to everyone, it's been a while since I last wrote something decent enough to post here. At any case, I hope you'll enjoy this series of one shots, each in a different writing style, each inspired by a different thing. And yes, my job is very boring.

**Title**: Dolls

**Rating**: k+

**Inspiration**: "Black hole sun" by Soundgarden

**Genre**: mild angst

**Dolls**

They looked like dolls.

Always smiling, always happy, always Plastic Perfect dolls.

Erik can't help but compare the siblings to the manikins popping from nowhere during their training.

Raven, with her wavy, long, blond hair and always moist lips, looked like one of those expensive porcelain dolls his mother used to collect before the war.

That thought made him feel weird.

He didn't dwell on it.

She dressed like a doll, the Raven girl. Her eyes were fake like a doll.

Charles reminded him of a painting.

A happy child who doesn't know despair. Always perfectly dressed, not a hair out of place.

Always standing in the perfect posture, not too stiff but not too limp.

Always smiling, excited by everyone and everything.

The perfect man who had everything.

He watched as Raven led the tour in the mansion, looking like a royal princess.

He watched as Charles trained with each one of his fellow mutants, beaming with warmth, pride and joy.

They really looked like dolls at first, and Erik never played with dolls.

Delicate porcelain dolls.

Only later on, it occurred to him, he saw cracks in his perfect dolls.

He noticed how Charles mentioned his father on occasions. His father built the underground area where he trained Alex to control his destructive abilities, from fear of nuclear war.

His father owned this chess set, Charles favorite.

His father died when he was young.

He never talked about his mother, Erik noticed.

He noticed Raven looking at her reflection, when she thought no one was looking. Pure hate radiating from her beautiful eyes.

It looked as though it took her a moment or two to recognize her own face. Erik didn't understand why.

When Hank talked about a "cure" to her physical problem, Erik felt his stomach wrenching with anger.

He doesn't think she's sick, she needs no cure. She is perfect in his eyes.

She never wore blue, Erik noticed.

"What did you just do to me?" Erik asked, traces of a happy Hanukkah still played in front of his tearful eyes.

Charles inhaled, "I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system" He explained, his big blue eyes shone with tears of his own. "It's a very beautiful memory Erik, thank you"

And Erik noticed how foreign the small act of endearment between a child and a mother was to the up coming professor.

Charles never talked about his mother.

Erik pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind, it's too late to reminisce.

He holds in his arms an injured, limp, bleeding Charles.

The bullet tucked safely in his trembling fist.

Raven is standing in the background somewhere. Her blue hands cover her true face in shock.

Things all around them explode and fall.

"I'm sorry my friend" Charles spits in the air, barely able to ignore the pain in his back. Tears run down his chicks.

"But we do not"

They looked like dolls to him.

Perfect plastic dolls.

But Erik never played with dolls.

It's not his fault he broke them.

Fin

Thank you for reading, and as always, constructive criticism is welcome.


	2. Slash

**AN**: Thank you very much, my two reviewers, you are too kind. I should probably mention that English is not my native tongue so bare with me.

On with the fic! This little number comes with a big warning of shameless smut, very graphic non heterosexual sex and a twist ending. If you don't wish to dirty your thoughts (I'm not taking responsibility for this) you can just skip this one. I apologize in advance, this is my first lemon, but it had to be written, while I was working.

Also, I own nothing.

**Title**: Slash

**Rating**: M

**Inspiration**: See at the bottom, but only after you read the fic, or it will ruin the twist

**Warning**: shameless smut and guy on guy action

**Genre**: Smut and Humor

It wasn't real.

They both drank more than enough scotch. More than enough.

Erik corners him on his way to his room, demanding to hold a serious conversation. Charles agrees, knowing too well where this little game will lead.

Not a heartbeat after Charles closes the bedroom door that Erik flicks his wrist. The door locks with an audible click

Charles mindlessly removes his vest, then his buttoned shirt, then his under shirt and Erik wonders why the man bothers wearing so many layers only to shed them off.

Not to be undone, Erik begins undoing his pants in a slow enticing rhythm, catching the other man's eye. Charles smiles to himself than moves to stand in front of Erik and remove said man's turtleneck navy blue shirt. He plants a soft kiss upon the taller man, sliding them both onto the king size bed.

The kisses become hungrier as Erik sets to remove Charles's pants, then underwear, finishing the act by kicking his own offensive boxers. Finally they are naked. Charles twists his body so he is on top, knowing very well how much his friend likes to be in control. The professor begins kissing down the metal bender's fit body, sucking gently at a few strategic locations before stopping in front of a solid rock penis. Then he stops. Erik wanted to talk, didn't he?

"Cuba, a war on mankind, on all of us" Charles decides on using his hand instead, while his mouth is busy developing a conversation.

Erik, who will never admit defeat, tries to push Charles's head towards his needy crotch.

"He has to be stopped. I'm going to kill him" Erik says then feels Charles hand go limp and a set of blue eyes piercing his own. "Do you have it in you to allow that?" Erik asks, toweling over Charles, on top once again, then slowly moves his hand to massage the neglected member of the man now giving a mown of pleasure. They really had the worst bed talk anyone could think of

"You have known all along why I am here Charles" Erik begins preparing the man beneath him, one hand still around his cock while the other was massaging his entrance. "But things have changed" Erik continues while Charles can only hold himself from moving his own hips to either direction, "what started as a cover up mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate "and Erik adds another finger, stretching gently while increasing his speed on Charles shaft."They'll fear us, and that fear will turn to hatred". He adds a third finger and Charles can't lie silent any longer, he can't lose.

"Not if we stop the war, not if we can prevent Shaw, not if we risk our lives doing so " Charles voice is deep with lust, he gazes deeply into Erik's eyes and begins massaging the cock hovering over his stomach. Erik gives out a small mown.

"Would they do the same for us?" Erik asks and he pulls out all three fingers, slowly.

"We have it in us to be the better men" Charles pulls him down for a kiss that ends too quickly in his taste.

"We already are! We are the next stage of human evolution, you said so yourself" Erik's hand grips just a bit too hard and Charles almost jumps from his place, a hint of pain on his face.

"No!" Charles says a bit too high pitched, then relaxes into Erik's slow stroking.

Erik positions himself between Charles legs and slowly inserts his erection, one of his hands fondling Charles balls. He pauses, after burying himself completely inside. "Are you really so naïve as to think they won't battle their own extinction?" it was a rhetorical question, for they both knew very well where each stood on the subject. Still, Erik enjoys provoking his friend in such a way. "Or is it arrogance?" he doesn't wait for a reply, instead Erik begins thrusting into Charles in a slow rhythm.

Charles eyes snap open at that last remark "I'm sorry?" he asks, thinking the pleasure was dulling his senses. It wasn't.

"After tomorrow they're going to turn on us" Erik says between thrusts, speeding up, "and you're blinded because you believe they are all like Moira"

Charles begins to feel himself nearing his orgasm, now if only Erik would stop mentioning others when they are fucking. Oh well, quid pro que. "You believe they're all like Shaw"

Erik freezes, for only a second, then returns to thrust harder and faster, but Charles wasn't done.

"Listen to me, very carefully, my friend" Charles can feel Erik is close to finish. "killing Shaw will not bring you peace"

Erik stops moving.

He gently cups Charles's face with one hand, lowering himself down so their noses touch and he whispers softly, almost to himself. "Peace was never an option".

They kiss. Hard. Feeling the coming glorious orgasm.

It wasn't real.

"cut" yells the director, a phone pressed to his ear.

It was, after all, just a movie.

"Now what?" shouts Michael Fassbender, then rolls off his co star to lie under the covers.

James McAvoy raises his torso, letting the weight fall on his elbows. "we've been doing this bloody scene for hours" he spits with a perfect Scottish accent, blue eyes full of fury. Scottish fury. " was it not sexy enough for the writers?"

"sorry, sorry you guys" the director apologizes, "but the studio decided to rate this movie PG13, so we're cutting off the gay sex scenes"

"But we have already shot most of them" protests Michael, hopping to get an oscar, like that movie with those two cowboys doing each other a lot.

"Not to mention, the relationship is a big part of the plot" adds James, simply because he really believes it to be true.

"I know. I know" the director looks nervous, "we're keeping the sexual tension your characters have, but instead of sex, you guys are going to do the next best thing"

And with that the director turns to his assistant, "get them some clothes. And a chess board".

Fin

I'm sorry, I know breaking the forth wall is taking the easy way out but this had to be written. As I promised, my inspiration came from a little fan art, I should warn you though, it has some mild (drawn) upper body nudity and implied male on male sexual behavior, then again, if you read my story without blushing, then you'll be fine. Just delete the spaces:

http : / media . photobucket . com / image / x % 20men % 20first % 20class / princessunikorn/ YLYL%20yaoi% 20edtion / ?o = 430


	3. Where is my mind?

**A/N**: This one shot is weird. Really weird! It only makes sense if you read it all the way to the end. Enjoy.

Still own nothing.

**Title:** Where is my mind?

**Rating:** K+

**Inspiration:** "Where is my mind" from the "Suckerpunch" soundtrack

**Genre:** Thriller

**Where is my mind?**

"Where is my mind?"

He thinks quietly to himself.

"Where is my mind?"

He tries to ask out loud, but there is no reply.

And how can there be? For as long as he can see, there is no one there.

"Where is it?"

He begins to feel fear.

It's not usually like this. It took a few years, but with a lot of self discipline and more luck than brains, he was able to avoid this.

The lost

And yet, here he stands, sits, lies, he's not sure yet, completely lost inside something much bigger than himself.

So he absorbs his surroundings, as calmly as he can.

Nothing

He wants something solid, some boundaries, so he makes a tree.

It's shaky and a bit see-through, like a mirage, about to disappear.

He sits under the tree, knees tucked to his stomach.

The tree is already disappearing into nothing.

He wants to make something else, anything so he won't feel afraid.

He makes a mask.

A scary mask, instead of his face.

Now he is a monster.

Monsters don't fear monsters

"Where is my mind?"

He screams to the nothing with his new monster voice.

He stands up and looks at his hands.

They're not there.

"Good" he thinks, but he can't explain why.

He starts walking a few steps before noticing something is wrong.

He can't see his legs.

"Good" he thinks, but he can't explain why.

He walks again, ignoring the sick sensation of not feeling your legs.

He stops abruptly when he hears a familiar voice.

"I have your mind"

The voice calls

"I have your mind and I am never giving it back"

The voice laughs.

Charles wakes up in an odd angle.

Cold sweat drips down his forehead, his chest rises and falls with every shallow breath he takes.

He wipes his brow, mashing away brown curls and looks at his hands. They are very much visible, all ten digits.

He chuckles to himself.

A dream. A twisted way for the brain to deal with the troubles of conciseness.

Just a dream.

Maneuvering himself into his prison chair to get a glass of water, perhaps scotch instead, Charles can't help but wonder.

Was it his dream?

"Where is my mind?"

Fin

**A/N**: this was written after the beach fiasco. So, whose dream do you think it was? I'll give you a hint: It's not Erik. Next one shot will be about the dreamer… does this count as a cliffhanger? I decided not to do that to my readers… I'm babbling… oh well.


	4. Feeling Blue

**A/N: **** I know "Where is my mind" was weird, I warned you, but it had a meaning. When I was writing it I thought about Raven dealing with her new situation after the Cuba missile crisis. And so, while listening to one of my favorite soundtrack I came out with a guilty dream she sent to Charles. **

**These are not song- fics, I write about what I feel when I listen to the song rather than the literal lyrics.**

**That being written, again with the mild angst. I seem to slightly torture the characters in my stories. **

**I own nothing, so don't sue please.**

**Title****:** Feeling blue

**Rating:** T just to be safe

**Inspiration:** Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)

**Genre:** Mild angst

**Feeling blue**

For lack of a better term, Raven was blue.

She has gotten used to her true form quicker than expected. Oddly enough, she found she missed her shoes the most. Especially the brown leather boots she insisted Charles must buy her in order to celebrate his acceptance into Oxford.

She missed Charles.

It was always Charles who found ways to calm her down when sleep eluded her. When she was lost.

And now was the first time, since she was a child, that she was alone. Surrounded by Mutants And Proud, but alone.

She mistakenly thought she'll get plenty of attention from Erik, the one who said she was perfection. Yet once he took Shaw's helmet and place, he was distant. High on top.

You have to understand, she was very blue. Without Charles to show her the good in people, she was left with only the bad.

Homo sapiens who feared her appearance.

Homo sapiens who damned her ugly.

Stupid homo sapiens with their easy to break bodies and even easier to break hearts.

She was reluctant at first. The thought alone of killing people would send her twitching to the bathroom, to throw up violently. But like any good soldier, she discovered it became easier and easier with time. Time and experience.

Each time she saw Charles, usually in the hit of battle, he would smile dearly at her with his deep blue eyes. It hurt her to see him in that chair, to see he still loved her even though she loathed what she had become.

You have to understand, she was too blue.

Raven wanted them to hate her as much as she hated herself. Not her blue self, Erik liked her blue self. She hated the fact that she couldn't be her blue self with Charles.

"Not good enough" she would tell her reflection of whomever, then return to her training.

She needs to be stronger.

She needs to be quicker.

She needs to be ruthless.

She needs to be a soldier.

She needs to stop being Raven and start being mystique.

She needs to make Charles hate her.

**AN**: It's short, I know, but I wanted to show how Raven evolved from a cute little blond to Mystique who killed people without blinking.


	5. Bury me

**A/N****: I couldn't help but think about Darwin's short screen time while listening to this song, thus this one shot was born. Also, the time line goes backwards in order to give a more optimistic feeling. I hope it worked…**

**Title**: Bury me

**Rating:** T

**WARNING**: character's death

**Inspiration:**** "**Vienna" by Billy Joel

**Genre:** Drama, Angst

**Bury me**

There was nothing left to bury.

"That is not completely true" said Charles in a low voice, "we might not have remains of a body, but people are much more than their physical forms"

It was Raven who insisted they will hold a funeral by any means necessary. They had lost Darwin. They had lost Angel. By the look of it, Charles thought, they had lost much more. Their innocence. The funeral was short. Charles said a few words as they stood, heads down, looking in a newly placed headstone on an empty grave in the Xavier mansion.

Erik had declared they were ready. But Charles saw the shaking in Alex's tough guy act, the more than usual stoic look on Sean's face, the long periods Hank stayed silent, and of course, Raven's fits of crying. As soon as Moira, Erik and himself returned from Russia, their prisoner under heavy supervision, Raven had launched herself on him and buried her tearful face in his chest. Only, there was nothing left to bury.

They were showing off, for the first time in their short lives, being teenagers. Not freaks, not abnormal, not the CIA's new mutant division. Just kids, playing with everything they had. Jumping on the sofa, playing the music too loud, hanging by their feet from the ceiling lamp, dancing while flying in the air or simply breaking random furniture on each other. They were kids after all. And Darwin was only trying to save Angel. It wasn't Alex's fault. No one blamed him, blamed his power, because there was nothing left to bury.

Charles and Erik slid in a normal looking yellow cab. The driver glanced at them from his front mirror. "Where to fellows?" he asked. "Richmond Virginia" said the taller man with a hint of a smile. Darwin adjusted his mirror to look better at his passengers. "So you want the airport, the station, what? " he chuckled. "No" said the smaller man with a thick British accent, "we were rather hopping you'll take us all the way". Darwin almost turned in his sit to look this strange duo in the eyes, but decided against it, the tall one was making his surviving instinct scream loudly. And surly they were joking. "That's a six hour drive" he said flatly, steadying himself to kick them out for wasting his time, never the less . The taller man spoke again, "that should give us plenty of time to talk" and with a flick of his wrist the cab's meter started to run. Darwin looked in mild shock as the British man's words were in his head. _"How would you like a job where you can make a difference?"_ Charles had asked him.

Darwin smiled. He was scared and surprised and, for the first time in a long time, didn't know how to adapt to this new information. That made him happy. As he drove the two men to Richmond Virginia, all the while listening to them talk about mutation, Shaw, the CIA, Darwin forced himself to bury the nervous feeling he had about this adventure. It was gone quickly, he realized, putting his trust in these strangers, feeling like he belonged, disappearing for a while, he had nothing left to bury.


	6. Magical

**A/N**: Sorry for the delay, but work has been a bitch, real life is just too real and I had to go back to the gym. But enough about my half assed excuses, this little number was inspired by two songs. Now, I know what you're thinking, "two completely different songs inspired you to write one story?" well, yes they did. Should I explain the sources of my inspiration? Is it unclear? Review and tell me.

For example, I always thought Moira was a great character who didn't get a real part in the movie, she was always an outsider, a mellow outsider who didn't really contribute anything beside informing Charles about Shaw and stand in the background. It also occurred to me, what if Charles couldn't erase all of her memories, thus making Moira seem insane to normal people. Combine all of that with David and Panic and you get this little AU ending.

**Title**: Magical

**Rating**: k+

**Inspiration**: "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie and "Do You Know What I'm Seeing?" by Panic! At The Disco.

**Genre**: mild angst

I own nothing, I have no money, you don't sue.

**Magical**

It was almost magical in a way.

She had seen the most magical individuals and at that time, didn't think twice about it.

She could still remember bits and pieces of the good old times. Some trees, the kids, a beach, Charles. Oh how she remembered the man. He might have wiped her memory clean, or so she claims, but HIS was the only name she couldn't forget.

They were training, you see, trying to better themselves. All of them, except for her. She wasn't magical. But that's ok, she thought, they were magical enough.

The sky was almost as blue as that man's eyes, fluffy clouds sailed silently, almost provoking fate to try and ruin the peace. And even though she couldn't remember why, she felt at peace.

It was when she closed her eyes that she saw the magic.

She saw a man shuttering glass with his voice.

She saw a woman with wings, flying.

She saw a man controlling metal.

She saw a woman made of diamonds.

She saw a red man with a tail vanishing and then reappearing from thin air.

She saw a man throwing hurricanes from his hands.

She saw a man shooting red hoops from his body

She saw a man with blue fur.

She saw a woman who changes her appearance.

And she saw Charles. He was inside her head, whispering words she couldn't remember.

She had told her higher ups all she remembered. Fragments of feelings and magic. A kiss. They frowned.

It's been almost six months since she first came to the mental hospital, and she insisted she wasn't crazy.

Shaw existed! Charles existed! They were aiming their guns at their own people! She screamed to the walls.

They left her behind because she wasn't magical.

But that's ok, Moira thought, they were magical enough.


	7. Happy

**A/N**: I'm back! With more one shots inspired randomly at work.

For some unexplained reason I thought about Sean when I listened to this song. It was both optimistic and destructively sad. And yes, Billy Joel again. I like him.

Still own nothing.

**Title****:** Happy

**Rating:** T to be safe

**Inspiration:** Billy Joel- Piano Man

**Happy**

It was over.

The battle was long and hard and really painful, but it was behind them.

They had returned victorious to the mansion, and celebrated.

Sean beamed with excitement as he walked to Charles's study and found they were already opening the champagne bottles.

Hank had given him a friendly tap on the shoulder with his blue hairy paw like hand, and a glass of expensive bubbly wine. "Here you go Banshee" he smiled and Sean took the glass, returning the smile.

Charles was making a toast. "My friends" he began, and to Sean he looked taller than ever, "today we have accomplished more than I could have ever imagined. I am so proud of us all. You should feel proud as well, we have stopped world war III" and as all eyes were on him, Charles raised his glass. "Mutant and proud" he called.

"Mutant and proud" the group returned.

Sean though the champagne tasted funny but said nothing. He had never drunk expensive booze before. Only beer to go with his funny smelling cigarettes.

He sat down next to Alex, who held a beer, and abandoned his glass in favor of a familiar bottle. The beer tasted like fizzy bread to him.

"You know what man?" Alex caught his attention. "I've always wanted a big family, like yours" the blond man chuckled. Sean nodded at him. "But I guess you're my family now" and he ruffled the red hair on Sean's head just like his brother does. Sean playfully pushed away the blonds' hand and smiled broadly. He looked at his new family.

Charles was talking to Erik. Yes, Erik was there because he decided not to kill Shaw, to capture him instead, and he didn't take that awful helmet and Charles was never shot. Charles was never shot and he wasn't paralyzed. They were smiling at each other, sharing private jokes and what Sean suspected to be scotch. Or whisky. What's the difference?

They seemed happy.

Moira was laughing with Raven, because Raven had never left them. She was blue and scaly and happy, if not a bit tipsy. She winked at him as their gazes met. He nodded.

Alex was talking next to him, but Sean couldn't make out the words the man was saying. Was he already drunk?

Hank had joined Raven and Moira, fresh drinks in his hands.

So happy

Next to the south window, Angel was sharing a drink with Darwin. Her smile was so beautiful, it almost hurt.

Sean didn't understand why he felt like that.

And then he woke up.

Sitting on an uncomfortable armchair, in front of a sedated, injured Charles, Sean can't help but cry.

They were so happy.


	8. Definition

**A/N**: Truth being written, I have a few one shots lined up to be typed , I just need to find the time to upload them…

I hope you'll enjoy what came to mind while listening to Queen

Let the crazy begin

**Title**: Definition

**Rating**: T

**Inspiration**: Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

**Genre**: mild angst, but how can I not?

I own nothing, I have no money, you can't sue.

**Definition**

Erik is a child. A scared Jewish boy.

He sits in the corner of what he thinks is a cellar.

He must be in jail. Yes, this is jail. He deserves to be there after what happened with Herr Doctor. He had just killed two German soldiers, crushed their helmets on top of their heads. He was responsible for their deaths.

He had killed his mother, being unable to move that damn coin. He was responsible for her death. He's a murderer too.

Erik sits in the corner and cries his eyes out. He is scared of himself.

**88**

Erik is a God. A self loathing God.

He hears Herr Doctor call him that between screams of pain.

Erik doesn't want to think about what happens to him, but Herr Doctor carves each and every minute into his skin.

At the end of the day, just before Erik is about to pass into sleep, he traces the lines on his body.

Erik decides he doesn't believe in God.

**88**

Erik is free. A free nobody.

He can be normal now, put this behind him and start over.

As he holds Anya's lifeless body, so small and still a bit worm, in his bloodied hands, he gazes at the corpses around him.

Magda has fled from him.

Erik realizes, with tears of rage, that he can't be free. As long as Schmidt is alive, Erik can't be free.

**88**

Erik is a monster. A lone monster on the hunt.

He spends each waking moment tracking Schmidt, leaving as many terrified, injured or dead, in his tracks.

He doesn't care anymore, he decides. He doesn't fear anything. He regrets nothing. He doesn't even notice the oxygen running out as he clutches his magnetic hold on Schmidt's submarine.

He doesn't mind dying as long as he takes that man with him.

Erik pays no attention to the pair of hands grabbing him, attempting to pull him up to the surface.

And then he hears a voice inside his head.

Erik is a mutant. A mutant who is not alone.


	9. Life's a drag

**A/N**: So I was scrolling down some websites, innocently, when I came across a deleted scene from the movie where Charles demonstrates his mutation when he and Erik first meet Angel, and a light bulb went Bing.

This is supposed to be funny, I can't stretch it enough, don't take it seriously!

I just needed to write something other than angsty dark fics… it's not easy to write light stories for this fandom. I'm going to sleep now.

**Title**: life's a drag

**Rating**: k+

**Inspiration**: A deleted scene from the movie

**Genre**: Humor

I own nothing, I have no money, please don't sue

**Life's a drag**

Charles Francis Xavier is evil. No, really, he's evil. How else would you explain his tendency of demonstrating his mutation in such a way?

It first happened when Charles and Erik entered a very important strip club. They were waiting for a girl named Angel, lying on a bad covered with red velvet.

She was very beautiful, Charles thought, although too young for this profession. She must be around Raven's age. He really didn't want to think about his sister while eyeing half naked dancing girls. Better think of something else.

Blame it on the booze

Blame it on the Go-Go dancers

Blame it on Charles idea of fun

But after Erik had poured him another glass of cheap bubbly wine, using his power of metal manipulation and a cheeky "more wine vicar?" Charles couldn't help himself of what followed.

Angel gave a nod of appreciation, her face screamed the lack of trust she gave the two men in front of her. That was Charles's cue to press two fingers to his temple.

Angel burst out laughing.

Erik looked at them both, puzzled. His gaze shifting from the exotic dancer to his friend, almost as if he were watching a tennis match. A really confusing tennis match.

"What?" he asked Charles, who was trying to stifle his own laughter.

"How did you do that?" asked Angel, still giggling

"Did what?" Erik tried again.

"You've never looked better, darling" was all Charles said to him before Angel unhooked that little piece of fabric she wore as a shirt.

"My turn"

Erik decided to let the strange incident slide, seeing as it served its purpose. He suspected, in the depths of his mind, that he didn't really want to know.

XXX

Darwin was pleasant and didn't need much persuasion to just leave his life behind. All it took was a small flick from Erik's wrist and a promise from Charles to never show his mind that image. Easy as cake.

XXX

Alex was difficult. The blond plainly refused to leave his maximum secured prison cell. The three mutants were surrounded by prison guards and black suits, which rendered Erik unable to use his clever puns while manipulating metal. Thus Charles lifted two fingers in a familiar gesture.

The blond kid's eyes grew wide and his face turned pale. He nodded at Charles. Erik suspected Charles was explaining their situation, which was why the boy was eyeing him suspiciously.

With a last nod, Alex gathered what little he owned and followed them out, avoiding Erik's gaze.

XXX

"Excuse me, I'm Erik Lehnsherr"

"Charles Xavier"

"Go fuck yourselves"

Without arguing, they left.

XXX

It was Sean's fault, really. He was never good at reading people.

The redhead was still licking his wounds after falling, I mean attempting to fly, from the mansion's second floor window, and Charles wanted to take him to the big satellite dish and try again.

"I am going to die" he complained to whoever would listen. Unfortunately, it was Erik. "I'm going to die young! I don't want to die, there are so many things I haven't done yet…" Sean looked with pleading eyes, hopping Erik would comfort him.

Sean really couldn't read people.

Erik sighed. "You have nothing to fear, we both know Charles won't let you kill yourself" was the best Erik could offer.

Sean narrowed his already biddy eyes, "I don't know man, he can be kind of sadistic. I mean, like when you guys first met me, I thought it was awesome how he implanted that image of you in that red wig, awful blue dress and those fishnets stockings in my head…" Sean shuddered, "I mean, you were one ugly chick, but that was the best trip I've ever experienced" he laughed while violently patting Erik's shoulder, not noticing the older man's dumbstruck face. Which turned quickly into pure anger.

Later that afternoon Erik had pushed Sean off the satellite dish, causing the redhead to scream in the right frequency and fly.

Charles Francis Xavier is evil. No, really, he's evil.

He knows damn well, Erik looks better in a blond wig.


	10. Unforgettable

**A/N**: Hey, look, it's that girl who used to update but doesn't anymore. Is that an update? Why I do believe it is.

Well, sorry for the long wait between updates but insert excuse here.

Anydoodle, this is my take on "Dolls" from Charles point of view, because Erik reminds me of the Comedian from "Watchmen" sometimes.

**Title**: Unforgettable

**Rating**: k+

**Inspiration**: Unforgettable – Frank Sinatra

**Genre**: mild angst

I own nothing, I have no money, please don't sue.

**Unforgettable**

He looked like a movie star.

The movies Charles used to watch in black and white when he was young. He looked like the kind of man who is bound to get the girl and save the world. Just like the old movie stars.

He was slick and polished, toned and refined. Everything about him screamed Danger, from his nit haircut to his fitting clothes, all the way to his leather shoes. Danger.

Which is why Charles finds Erik to be so mesmerizing. It was the contrast. On the outside, Erik was James Bond, gun at one hand and a drink at the other.

But, all it took was a little brush inside his mind to see the truth.

Erik was a mass

Erik was broken

Erik was a puzzle. How Charles loved puzzles.

Without even realizing how it happened, Erik was his friend.

Charles watched as Erik talked, his jaw moving in a mesmerizing rhythm. The words he'd say, the way he'd deliver them, sounded like the speech the hero gives before stopping the villain.

Just like those old movie stars.

To Erik, Charles noticed, things were either black or white. Good or bad. Day or night. Necessary or expandable. Human or mutant.

And try as he might, Charles couldn't force himself to see the world that way.

How could he even begin to understand?

This is a man who tried to lift a submarine from the cold, dark water, ignoring the risk of drowning.

This is a man who rushed inside a Russian officer's fully guarded mansion, only to capture his enemy's second in commend.

This is a man who practically begged Charles to shoot him in the face, from point blank, while smiling broadly.

It was rather obvious why Charles found Erik so entertaining.

Sitting in his prison chair, gazing at his young, gifted, students, Charles can't see the world in black or white, only shades of grey.

Looking back at how he used to look at his friend, the hero, Charles can't help but chuckle dryly, tears fall down his chicks.

Even with that awful helmet, even with the harsh slaps of time on his face, even tough they are as far apart as can be, to him, Erik is still a movie star.

"It's a joke, it's all a joke. Mother forgive me"


End file.
